


Six's Song

by goldenteaset



Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Cannibalism, Coming of Age, Corruption, Creepy, During Canon, Gen, Memory Loss, Minor Original Character(s), Possessive Behavior, Pre-Game(s), Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 09:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10964448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenteaset/pseuds/goldenteaset
Summary: "That’s right. That’s why I’m here. I’m trying to get something back."Sequel to "She Looked At Me (As She Did Love)".





	Six's Song

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the Little Nightmares soundtrack. Alas, couldn't really use another "La Belle Dame Sans Merci" quote for this. ^^; 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Little Nightmares.

"You _took them from me_ ," she screams, as the strange, blobby creature drags her out the door with impersonal, lukewarm arms.

There's no response from within the sterile gray gloom of The Lady's quarters.

She keeps fighting, biting and scratching and flailing, even as she's passed from one pair of impersonal hands to another. She's stuffed into a sack that smells of stale pee. Some time later, she wakes up and rips a small hole with her teeth, retching at the too-salty, bristly fabric.

Down, down, down she goes, past lavishly decorated rooms and dimly-lit dining halls and a sweaty kitchen. She catches a glimpse of something tiny and dark scuttling under tables, or peering at her with clever eyes. Down, down, down she goes, into the Maw, into the dark.

Then she's dumped like a drowned rat. In the soupy, clinging darkness, it's hard to believe she's awake. All she knows for sure is that there's cold metal beneath her hands and knees, and sometimes she hears the mournful groan of the Maw.

It occurs to her, as she lies there on her back, listening to the Maw churn like a great belly, that for the first time in a long time she can't hear The Lady's voice. There's no constant song looping and looping in her head, like the stuck needle of a record player. There are only her thoughts, small and weary, but hers. That's enough for now.

She sits up, not wanting to waste this chance. She begins fumbling through her memories, trying to get everything straight: _This is my sister's lighter, I was keeping it safe while she dealt with detention. I got this raincoat for my birthday. I had a book report on_ Huckleberry Finn _due in two days—I only had a paragraph left to write._

She manages a smile, surprised at just how much she remembers. But as she continues her experiment, a slow realization creeps cold fingers down her neck.

_...What’s my name?_

It's not the one The Lady gave her, it can't be. And yet, all she can think of is _Six_. It springs to mind as naturally as using her right hand over her left. Now matter how hard she tries, her head pounds in a heavy, painful stutter each time she thinks of another name. _Six. Six. Six. My child, my Six, so sweet to me._

It seems she spoke too soon, about The Lady's melody finally ending.

Rage burns the inside of her throat, and she bites her lip so hard she tastes copper.

 _You took them from me. You took_ everything _from_ _me—_

A hitching, gagging sound echoes in the shadows, pierces the muggy, bitter air. It takes a moment to realize she's the source of the laughter.

Six it is.

\---

Her mother always said to keep your goals simple—play a song on a piano, scream and run if a stranger tries to steal you, find something to eat—and that's what Six plans to do.

She doesn't let herself feel scared as she travels through The Janitor's territory, and she cuts off his slinky-arms and escapes. She stays brave even as she creeps through the kitchens, with The Twin Chefs watching for any sign of vermin with their piggy, glassy eyes.

The Nomes grow to like her; they see a fellow scavenger learning the ropes. Six helps them in turn—they're in this miserable place together, it's the least she can do.

She feeds when the hunger gets too much. She hunches over her meager meal and growls like a beast, because she's learned the hard way that there's always someone watching. There's always someone just as hungry, and they're often stronger. And unlike The Lady, the darkness can't fill her belly.

If the rats and nomes are out in full-force, scuttling around the silent lower decks, Six needs to stay put. Traps have been set, and they'll catch their prey. She's not going to die that easily.

_Stay nestled in our little den—_

Six shuts down the tangled melody looping in her head by humming a simple, catchy tune of her own as soon as it happens. She has no idea how long it'll work, but every second she can concentrate means another second she can survive.

But the hunger, that gnawing, clawing hunger that drags sharp nails through her belly and leaves her empty and desperate—that hasn't left.

It simply bides its time.

\---

It’s hard to remember the time before the Maw—if there ever was such a thing.

Six strokes the lukewarm lighter with a finger, trying to put a face to the object. It belonged to someone, didn’t it? She was going to return it to them, wasn’t she? She knows that much, remembers it clearly, and yet…

No matter how hard she tries, all she understands is that the lighter was someone’s, but it’s hers now. Just like her raincoat is hers, _Six_ is hers, and the tune she hums is hers.

_That’s right. That’s why I’m here. I’m trying to get something back._

The Lady, who haunts her dreams, who sings so sweetly—that’s the person she’s trying to find. Once Six finds The Lady, then she can finish her goal.

Until then…

She begins to sing again, low in her throat, and stands. 

\---

Six climbs across the scaffolding that leads to the Maw's guest area, secure in the knowledge that there's a path up ahead that can lead her to the person she seeks. It's strange, to think of The Lady as someone she _wants_ to find, but in the end, Six has no choice. _Maybe she can get rid of this hunger...or maybe she has a way out of here?_ Neither are certainties.

She rounds a corner of the metal ductwork and finds herself looking out at the Maw's entranceway. It's as coolly elegant as she remembered, dimly-lit yet welcoming. Hopefully, those hanging lanterns haven’t gotten rusty...

The one thing Six knows for certain is that her hunger keeps growing. Even as she watches the Guests lurch their way into the Maw, ponderous strands of drool dangling from their mouths like parodies of jewelry, a hateful part of her feels a sharp pang of envy. _They_ don't have to scrounge through the dark, soupy darkness of the lower decks for their next meal. _They_ don't look at rat-gnawed meat and feel compelled to stuff it in their mouth.

She can still taste the coarse, oily bristles on her tongue, and the coppery-sweetness of the blood sliding down her throat.

On the outside, she shudders. On the inside, she thinks: _This is what it takes to get back what was stolen._

With careful, tiny steps, she creeps across the little iron grate. The lanterns are in her sights. She thinks she knows someone—two people—who would kill to know where The Lady got her furniture. On that rainy night at the library, Six was waiting for them.

Six grits her teeth. _Don't think about that. Focus._

Tensing her legs, coiling her little body to spring, Six jumps for the lantern.

With a heart-stopping rush of air, she makes it, clutching the black-lacquered metal with white-knuckled hands. It's so cold it burns her sweaty palms. She reluctantly lets go—she has enough room on the flat wood top to not fear falling. (If she's very, very careful, that is.)

The Guests lumber on, snuffling and wheezing as they waddle to the dining hall. Six ponders spitting on one's bald, waxy head—it needs a good shine. And it would be funny to watch him shriek and flail around, hunting for the source. But baldy passes beneath her before she can risk it.

She catches a glimpse of moon-silver on her right, so she twists her body around to face straight ahead. She has to get through the little nook a few lanterns ahead of her; she can't be distracted.

She gets a running start, and jumps to the next lantern, then the next. She pauses to catch her breath. Now she's on the last lantern, and only now does she realize it's not close enough to the grate. She'll have to push it forward.

Beneath her, she hears a Guest sniff the air greedily. Cold fear trails spider-fingers up her back and settles around her neck.

Six's toes curl in her soaking-wet shoes. Slowly, carefully, she inches the dangling light to the grate. The light sways, and her body mimics it. The G-Force makes it feel like her brain's being sucked down her neck, then forced through her mouth. _Focus—_

Throwing caution to the winds, she jumps on the next forward swing.

She makes it. Her arms and legs slump forward in relief; she only stays upright on sheer force of will.

When Six looks up, she locks eyes with The Lady.

She was there all along, of course. Six knows her routine well. The Lady's standing on the balcony, overlooking her loyal customers. Her posture is still as perfect as a bow on a violin. She's a practiced musician, and at this moment her silence is an art unto itself. Even though Six can't see The Lady's eyes beneath that mask, she can tell that The Lady's watching her very, very carefully.

Six stares back. Nightmarish memories begin to unspool in her mind.

How many times did she stay by The Lady's side on that same balcony, dangling her sandal-clad feet over the edge?

How many times did she watch The Lady sit at her vanity and fix her hair?

How many times did those delicate, lukewarm fingers press hard enough to bruise against her back, to adjust her posture just so; a silent reminder of Six's eternal room for improvement?

Too often, and for too long.

Kidnapper and victim stare at each other. The Lady's figure is backed by silvery light, while Six is swaddled in dust and iron.

Six wonders what's taking The Lady so long to grab her. She can still taste the shadows The Lady smothered her in, lukewarm gristle soaked in vinegar. And Six knows those shadows have impressive reach. The distance between them is nothing.

Six blinks. The Lady vanishes.

Six allows herself a grim smile and resumes her journey. _I'll see you soon._

\---

Six makes it through the Guest Area by the skin of her teeth; but her heartbeat is as steady as it's ever been. Did it ever race in her chest? She doesn't remember, and it doesn't matter. All that matters is that she's closer than ever to her goal.

She passes the baths just in time to see The Lady stride onto the lift.

Six peers around the corner, watching The Lady's perfect, delicate steps, the almost coy way she looks over her silk-clad shoulder at Six. The small, etched smile on her mask looks beckoning and sweet. It's as if she's waiting for Six to catch up to her, to take her hand.

Or to kill her.

Six's heart remains steady, even as she lets the lift's doors close, bringing The Lady to her quarters. Six presses a grimy hand to her currently full belly and hopes that the Nome she ate will hold her, for now.

_Just a little while longer..._

She wipes her mouth with her cold, sticky sleeve and heads for the lift. It opens silently, as if expecting her. When she steps inside, the metal doors close like a trap door—or perhaps a loved one's embrace. She listens to the quiet, endless drone of the rising lift, humming her little tune.

The Lady's melody hasn't wormed its way through her head lately, not even when they met face to face. Six considers that a good sign, that maybe this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

She keeps her hope on a small, tight leash as the lift's doors open, revealing the door she knows as well as The Lady’s mask.

_It's time._

\---

Six stares at The Lady, defeated on the floor, her face hidden from view by her long, dark hair, and hangs back for a moment. This victory could be a trap; it feels easier than it should. She waits for that melody to begin again, but there is only silence.

Six breathes in the cold dust that cakes the room and lets out a wretched hacking sound. It pierces the air like a rusted knife through meat. 

The Lady hasn't moved, so Six takes in the sight with satisfaction: while The Lady isn't nearly as bedraggled worn out as Six, with her bowed head and shattered mask, she may as well be. But even if The Lady's beaten, power still flows from her like an unspooling bolt of silk, or a shadow thrown across a wall. 

Six's belly growls like a living thing; it feels like a huge stone’s about to burst from her insides. She hunches over, her head bowed in pain. She and The Lady could be reflections in a funhouse mirror.

The Lady's head lifts slightly to look at Six. In the dim light, Six thinks she sees a hint of perfect white teeth, bared in a grin. Something tells her not to look closer, to glimpse what mustn't be seen. 

Gathering all her strength, Six lurches toward The Lady.

"You took everything from me," she says, her voice little more than a whisper. "So I'll take what I'm owed."

Perhaps she's proud of Six.

Perhaps she's trying to be dignified, even in death.

Regardless, The Lady's smile remains.

Six's mouth waters as she catches a whiff of The Lady's scent, clean and lightly perfumed. After who knows how long stuck with the smells of oil and gristle, whatever The Lady's wearing is heavenly and sweet.

She's close enough to touch that soft, soft hair. She can see the glint of an ancient eye, quietly assessing her.

"You are too kind," The Lady says, her voice as soft as snowfall at night. "But that is amusing, in it's own way."

Six ignores her. She remembers how the veins in The Lady's wrist never pulsed with blood. Perhaps she’s made of shadows and sound. But The Lady's so much bigger than Six—surely, her flesh will end this hunger.

" _So sweet to me_ ," Six murmurs against The Lady's neck, before lunging forward.

Six doesn't feel The Lady twitch and writhe beneath her teeth and fingers. She barely notices the hitching laugh The Lady chokes out, the last sound she'll ever make.

All that matters is the blood as rich as milk, the cool, refreshing meat sliding down her throat.

When Six reluctantly finishes, she rises with a lady's grace. Shadows appear out of the corner of her eye, and twine about her like she's being fitted for a new dress. She isn't afraid. They’re so gentle, so welcoming; perhaps this is what she lost long ago. Perhaps her goal’s finally been reached.

She looks about the room, just in case this is another of The Lady’s traps. But no, there are only sweet shadows here.

Six flexes her fingers, and the darkness curls about her hand like ribbons of gunmetal. She doesn’t want to rush; she has time to learn. She can be patient, too. The Lady taught her that.

Six hums her sweet, gentle tune and smiles at the power pulsing in her throat.

_Mine._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated. :)


End file.
